Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
I barely have time to open the book to the first page when my phone buzzes again. I love her, but I have to roll my eyes. “Seriously, you could let me read,” I whisper into the otherwise quiet bedroom before picking up my phone and checking Bianca’s latest text.
Bianca: Check your email. I just sent you something. I would have sent a physical copy, but I don’t know your address.
She is a nut job sometimes. Instead of losing myself in the story, I open the email app on my phone to find a link to download another book. In the message box, she typed, This is the first book in the spinoff series, so you can start it as soon as you finish the first three.
She has a lot of faith in how fast I can read, not to mention how much I will like these books. I guess she knows me pretty well and can assume. But I feel like I’m in school now. Will she expect a report once I’m finished? Like I’m doing anything else with my time.
Before I close the app and try to get started again, another email catches my attention.
I lose my breath, staring at the subject. Re: Kristoff Knight
No. No, not this. Not again. I can’t take it. I need to pretend I never saw this. I need to take the phone to Romero and show him. He can handle it. I don’t need this, and I don’t want it. I don’t want any of it. When will he stop? There’s got to be something wrong with me, like deep down wrong. Why else would I tap the message to open it? Why would I subject myself to this?
Tatum — you have wasted enough of my time. Attached, please find documents from my lawyer’s office instructing you to contact them with any information you have about my son and his disappearance. You have ten business days to comply before this matter is handed over to the authorities. For both our sakes, you had better make the right decision before this gets ugly.
The way I throw the phone across the room, you’d think there’s a spider on it. Hot, bitter tears fill my eyes. Damn him. When will this be over? Why can’t it just be over? Why won’t he leave me alone?
For one crazy second, I remember the knife block in the kitchen. Yes, that’s what I need. I need some way to ease the pain ripping me apart inside. The pressure in my chest and my head is like a pressure cooker, ready to explode. I need to ease that stress, or else it’s going to kill me. Maybe I should let it. Maybe I would be better off. God, what am I going to do? What am I supposed to do? I can’t even see his ugly, filthy name without bile rushing into my throat and every little bit of strength I managed to gather around myself dissolving like cotton candy in the rain.
My body heaves in one wracking sob after another. I need to take this to Romero, but I don’t want him to see me like this. Even now, I can’t stand the thought of him watching me fall apart. I won’t let him. If I do, he’ll never, ever leave me alone again.
Why is your instinct always to be sneaky? I can hear him in my head now, asking me that question, and all I can do is yank the pillow from behind my head, clutch it in both hands then scream until my voice breaks and my throat burns and I can’t breathe. I scream until I’m too tired to scream anymore. Until the pillow is soaked with my tears, my voice a weak croak. Like a dying animal.
Maybe that’s what I am. Maybe that’s all I’ll ever be again.
“Tatum!”
My eyes snap open at the sudden, sharp sound. My heart’s in my throat, and somebody’s shaking me hard, so hard I would swear my brain is rattling around.
“Tatum, wake up!”
My throat’s so tight, I can’t breathe. I can’t speak. I can only try to smack at him with both hands so he’ll get off me. I need to get him off me. I need him to stop hurting me. I need to get away, far away. He’s too big, he’s too strong, he’s too –
“Tatum!”
It’s that last shout close to my face that snaps me out of it all the way. I’m not trapped in that house with Kristoff, thousands of miles away from my family and friends. He can’t hurt me now. Yet literally, the second that thought goes through my head, another thought follows. He can. He still is.
“Jesus fuck.” Romero finally lets go of me, then turns away and lets his head fall into his hands as he sinks onto the bed. “You were screaming so loud, I thought somebody broke in. Shit.”